


Progression of Envy

by castielsstarr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Negative Thoughts, Only a mention of the fact that he's dead, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstarr/pseuds/castielsstarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has been envious of Dean his whole life. Here's a look at a few of those times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Progression of Envy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN Writing Challenge January 2016!  
> Theme: Abstract Nouns  
> Prompt: Envy
> 
> I really don't know why I did it this way. I just... did? I don't know. Hope you all don't hate it XD
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr, I promise I don't bite:  
> SPN NSFW Multi-ship sideblog: [wingedwincest.tumblr.com](http://www.wingedwincest.tumblr.com)  
> Main blog: [castielsstarr.tumblr.com](http://www.castielsstarr.tumblr.com)

Age 3. Dean took his toy and wouldn’t give it back. Sam knew his brother didn’t even like the thing; only took it and played with it to get on Sam’s nerves. He wanted to make him mad, get Sam all riled up. Then, just as the tears started to well in his eyes, Dean would toss the toy back to his brother and laugh. Sam didn’t understand that he was teasing, not actually being malicious. All he knew was Dean was trying to take something he loved and it made him angry.

Age 5. Sam started to ask questions about their mom. Until that point he had just taken example from John and Dean. They didn’t talk about her, so he didn’t either. But he was curious—wanted to know about her and what he was missing. When he would ask about her, Dean would snap, telling him to shut up and mind his own business. His dad would just take a swig from whatever bottle he was working on. Sam couldn’t talk to anyone about her. Dean had a mom, but Sam felt like he didn’t. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

Age 7. Dean was given his own hunting knife for Christmas that year. John had wrapped it up in crisply folded newspaper and tied with ribbon from god-knows-where. Sam could tell that it was heavy and special from the way Dean looked it over, letting the light reflect off the blade. He asked if he could hold it for a second; he wanted to know what that special feelings was like. Dean only scoffed and held it away from him. He said that knives weren’t toys, and he had to wait until he was older. Sam felt old enough. Didn’t that count for something?

Age 8. Sam didn’t like the new people that Dean was starting to hang around with after school, even though his brother seemed to like them. Dean said that they were his new friends and that he was going to start hanging out with them more. John had said that Sam was a big boy and didn’t need his brother around all the time. He could make his own friends. To not be such an annoyance. Sam was sure the bottle was talking, not his dad. This was Dean. He had always been around to hang out with Sam. And suddenly he was just supposed to let it go? It was stupid.

Age 9. Dean and John had gone out and left Sam in the motel room, alone, with a gun as protection. When they had called, John said just until morning. When he called again, it was two nights, tops. Dean called him once and Sam whined, saying he wanted to come with them. That was was old enough and he could help. Dean said he was better off at home. He was trying to protect him, but Sam didn’t want it. Wanted to be with them and to be useful. He stayed put.

Age 12. Sam had thought he’d fallen asleep with just Dean in the room, but when he stirs he can hear a female voice. A female voice saying lewd things that he only just understands. Then he hears Dean, shushing her, telling her she needs to be quiet or she’ll wake his brother. She giggles. He can guess what’s going on and he isn’t happy. Why would Dean trust some random girl enough to bring her back to their room? Why would he let someone else that close to him, but not Sam?

Age 14. Dean screwed up. He thought Sam wasn’t going to be home for another few hours, but practice had gotten cancelled. Sam didn’t even have to open the door; he could hear her moaning and whining and saying, “Dean, yes.” His face grew heated. The closest his dick had gotten to fucking anything was his own hand. He shouldn’t be mad, but he was. Dean got a girl, so he didn’t need Sam. He was starting to notice the trend more these days and he hated it. Sam pounded his fist against the door once before he stalked off toward the diner.

Age 17. Sam was left home alone on Dean’s 21st birthday. He knew he wasn’t allowed to go to the places they were going, but being left home on a Saturday night wasn’t fun. He had a fake ID—his father had even gotten it for him—but John told him to stay home anyways. So, he flipped through limited channels and fumed. He drank everything from the mini bar. They’d come home in such a shitfaced state that it wouldn’t matter. John would never notice what he had done. It wasn’t like he normally did anyways.

Age 22. Dean seemed so comfortable in the life. They had the same knowledge-base, but with Dean having more practice, Sam just felt in the way. Sam wasn’t at ease with a gun in his hand anymore and he wished he could have an inkling of the grace and power that his brother did. He needed to get the thing that got Jess. Him. Not Dean or another hunter. It was his job. And that son of a bitch had better be waiting scared.

Age 25. Sam was referred to as “an abomination” while his brother was revered and it didn’t sit right with him. “A righteous man,” they called him, and that he was. But they both fought for the same thing. For the good of the world and to stop Lucifer from rising. Dean got to be good while he had to be known for drinking demon blood. They thought he was a junkie now, but he was only doing this to be strong enough. His name was tainted now. They angels didn’t want anything to do with him, but Dean was their freaking savior.

Age 33. Dean was gone. Sam knew it was silly to be envious of the dead, but he couldn’t help it. Wouldn’t it be nice to just… relax? To not care, not have to fight monsters all the time. But he had promised his brother that he would never stop fighting—never stop trying to make the world safer for those who didn’t live their kind of life. But he didn’t think he could protect anyone if he couldn’t save the person closest to him. He just wanted to take a break, but he knew that he wasn’t allowed to give up. He would always keep fighting. Because Dean said so.


End file.
